


Stop Time Here In The Moonlight

by justpastsaturn



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29936919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpastsaturn/pseuds/justpastsaturn
Summary: Harvey doesn't want to admit that he's lonely, but when a night at the Stardrop Saloon has potential to be more, he has to face his emotions and find out what it is he wants.
Relationships: Elliott/Harvey (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Harvey didn’t want to admit he was lonely.

It was one thing to feel it. Another to admit it. Admitting it meant sitting with it, acknowledging it, and what was there to do once that was done? It was better to shove it down and ignore it. At least, that’s what Harvey thought.

He didn’t necessarily  _ want _ to go to the saloon that night, but he didn’t feel like going home and it seemed the only place that’d hold him. Let him get lost in the swirl of people there. He loosened his tie as he walked in, sighing. Taking a seat at the bar, he motioned to Gus for an ale and when it came, he took a long pull, wiping the foam from his mustache with the back of his hand. 

The saloon was full, lively, and it should’ve alleviated Harvey’s mood. If anything, he felt more lonely than he had before. No one in here was here for him. He caught Shane’s eye for a moment, but he looked away quickly and went back to his beer. Harvey couldn’t blame him. No one wanted the town doctor to kill their buzz. He took another pull from his ale, considered whether he should just go home. 

Which is exactly when the door to the saloon opened, the cool fall air sweeping through the room bringing in the scent of dead leaves and rain. Harvey turned, looking to see who was joining the company tonight. In sauntered Elliott, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he walked in. Harvey sighed to himself.

He often envied Elliott. He seemed so confident, so self-assured. Harvey wondered what his secret was. Maybe it was the hair. Harvey scrubbed a hand through his. Maybe he should grow his out too.

He was more than surprised when Elliott took a seat beside him. They weren’t exactly friends, though it wasn’t to say they were on  _ bad _ terms. He tried to chalk it up to the heavy business, but before Elliott’s drink came, he turned to Harvey and flashed a smile. 

“My dear doctor,” he said. “Not drinking alone, I hope?”

Harvey didn’t know what to say to that. He was drinking alone. He held up his ale and saluted with it. “Not now that you’re here.”

Elliott blinked, then laughed. “I suppose you’re right. I was hoping for some company tonight, and it looks like we may be perfect companions.”

Harvey smiled. He didn’t know about “perfect.” If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how to talk to Elliott. “I guess we are. How have you been, Elliott? I haven’t seen you around the clinic in some time. I hope that means you’re doing well.”

Elliott smiled tightly. “Oh yes, just fine.”

“The book going alright?”

Elliott sighed. “I’m in the middle of a bit of a writer’s block, I’m afraid.”

“Well, here’s hoping you can find your way out of it,” Harvey said, taking another drink of his ale. “What is it you’re writing again?”

“It’s a romance,” Elliot said, his eyes lighting up. “A sweeping tale of forbidden love and—” He stopped short. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear me babble about my unfinished book.”

Harvey didn’t like how he deflated. He ordered them another round. “By all means,” he said. “Babble.”

Elliott laughed, and it may have been the alcohol, but Harvey liked the way he laughed—his head thrown back, his shoulders lax. Elliott never seemed to do anything halfway. Harvey could appreciate that.

“Well in that case,” Elliott said. “Let me tell you…”

He went into the main plot, telling Harvey of his characters, the plot, the main climax, where the characters finally kiss, and Harvey was entranced. Elliott was confident to begin with, but he lit up with a fire when he spoke of his work that would put the sun to shame. Harvey leaned forward on the bar. 

“You just come up with all this stuff? Where do you get it from?” he asked. 

Elliott shrugged. “Inspiration strikes in many ways. Sometimes something as simple as the way the light hits the waves is enough to inspire a scene from me.”

“That’s amazing,” Harvest breathed. He couldn’t imagine doing anything like that. “When do you think the book will be finished?”

Elliott frowned, and Harvey could kick himself for asking. 

“Oh, it’s a process,” Elliott said. “It’s hard to say.”

Silence fell between them and Harvey wished he could take it back. If only for a moment, talking with Elliot alleviated the loneliness. Just a little. He pushed his empty glass farther onto the other side of the counter and stood. 

“Are you leaving?”

“I was thinking about it,” Harvey answered. “I have an early appointment tomorrow morning.”

Elliott deflated once more. “Ah, I see.”

Something clenched tight in Harvey’s chest. He couldn’t put a name to the feeling, couldn’t decide what to call it. It was heavy and unpleasant.

“But,” he said, “if you’re free tomorrow night, it’d be nice to do this again. That is, if you want.”

Elliott perked up again. “Yes, I’d love that. Just a couple of bachelors on the town. I love it.”

Harvey smiled. “Then it’s settled. See you here at the same time?”

“Same time,” Elliott said, flashing his teeth. “I look forward to it.”

Harvey nodded and took his leave, throwing a “Goodnight,” over his shoulder. He got to the door and sent a glance back at Elliott. He was staring at Harvey’s back, and jumped when they met eyes. 

Harvey waved. Elliott waved back.

He didn’t know what to make of that.

That night, Harvey laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He clenched his hand into a fist, over and over. What was it, that feeling back at the bar? Something so strong he couldn’t ignore it. A gnawing sensation in his gut. He turned over in bed, rubbing at his eyes. 

It didn’t matter, he supposed. It was a good thing to get out and be with other people. Even if he didn’t want to admit to the loneliness, it was still there. Maybe this would help. Drinks with Elliot could turn into a thing. Maybe they’d make a habit of it. Maybe they’d become friends. Maybe they’d grow closer.

The thought brought back that same feeling. 

Harvey closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to admit that it was longing.


	2. Chapter 2

Harvey woke this next morning with a stretch and a groan. He’d not slept well, waking every so many hours to turn over and go back to sleep with varying degrees of success. Flinging his arm over his bedside table, he reached for his glasses as he sat up. The room was dark, shuttered, and the dark begged him to sleep just five minutes longer. He ignored its siren song and slowly got out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Today was going to be a long day.

He brushed his teeth and showered, dressing in the new light of the rising sun. Usually, he didn’t wake so early. The clinic didn’t open until nine, but he hadn’t been lying to Elliott the night before; he did have an early appointment. The new farmer down the way had asked him for an earlier appointment so he’d have time to get back to work afterwards. Harvey’d said he didn’t mind, but now that the day had come, he wished he’d not been so flexible.

The farmer had only been in the valley for the past few months, and if Harvey was honest with himself, he didn’t have any strong feelings about the man. He was young, and had taken to hanging with Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail and whatever shenanigans they were up to. When he arrived at the clinic, Harvey had to check the chart to remember his name. Ryker. Harvey told himself he’d remember that.

Ryker came in to the appointment in a black shirt with a skull on the front. His hair was coiffed, perfect, and bleached almost white. He was suntanned and bright, and Harvey reminded him to make sure to be using sunscreen while he was working. Ryker told him he would.

Harvey checked his throat and ears, then checked his vitals. As he counted seconds, Ryker stared at the ceiling. 

“So, am I dying, doc?” he asked as they finished up. 

Harvey couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, but at the same rate as the rest of us.” He threw his gloves into the trash and wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. “Keep active, eat well, and maybe you’ll die slower than that.”

Ryker laughed. “Good to hear. We good to go?” 

“Yes, go on,” Harvey said. “We’ll see you back for your next checkup.”

Ryker jumped down from the observation table and sent Harvey a mock salute on his way out. Harvey shook his head. Kids. He laughed at the thought. He was sure he was only ten years older than Ryker.

Harvey looked at the clock. It was still too early to open the clinic, but he didn’t lock the door behind Ryker. He might as well be at work, since he was up. Maybe he’d go through his files. The thought died as he heard the clinic door open. He stood, walking out and around to see who was in. 

He was more than surprised to see Elliott, looking slightly disheveled, two coffees in his hands. When he saw Harvey, he perked up, smiling brightly.

“Good morning!” he called as Harvey made his way into the waiting room. “I brought you coffee.”

“And the occasion?” Harvey asked, taking the cup, the steam fogging his glasses as he took his first sip. As the coffee his his lips, he felt himself reenergize. 

Elliott looked sheepish. “Well, if I can be honest with you…”

“Of course.”

“I was reminded last night why I don’t drink regularly. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a lightweight. I know we said drinks tonight, but I was hoping maybe we could share a coffee this morning instead?”

Harvey chuckled. “Are you hungover?”

“Something to that effect.”

Harvey took another sip from his coffee. “Fair enough. Why don’t we have a seat, then?”

He led Elliott back behind the counter at the front of the clinic, figuring it was the more sanitary option. He figured they shouldn’t be eating or drinking in the observation room. Elliott sat with a sigh, pushing back his hair and leaning heavily into the chair. 

Harvey sent him a sympathetic look. “That bad?”

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s bad as much as I’m a bellyacher,” Elliott admitted. “My head is killing me, though.”

“I think I might have something for that,” Harvey said. He turned in his seat, rifling through the drawers of medicine behind them. After a moment, he found what he was looking for and handed Elliott a bottle of liquid and a couple pills. 

Elliott looked at him wearily. “Can I ask what it is?”

“Well that’s an electrolyte drink,” Harvey said. “It’s for dehydration, which is mostly what a hangover is. And the pills are plain aspirin.”

Elliott nodded. “Bottoms up, I suppose.” 

He took the aspirin and drank all of the drink, pulling a face. Harvey laughed. 

“It’s not that bad,” he said. 

“I don’t know why I expected medicine to taste good,” Elliott said. “But thank you.”

Harvey shrugged. “It’s what I do. I help patients, and I cure hangovers.”

“One is a vastly more important service.”

“Yes, well, can’t have our resident novelist laid low by a headache.”

They both laughed, their coffee mostly forgotten on the counter. Harvey wondered when the last time was that he felt so natural with someone. Elliott was easy to talk to. He wondered if it was because he was so good with words. Harvey had never had such luck. 

They chatted on for a bit, mostly about mundane things such as the weather, and what was going on in town. Elliott brought up Ryker, how apparently he was quite the poet, and Harvey was surprised.

“I never realized,” he said. “I guess I don’t get out much. I think today at his appointment was the most I’ve ever spoken to him.”

“He comes by from time to time,” Elliott admitted. “We’ve compared writing tips a few times. Nice kid. It’s too bad…”

“Too bad?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t talk,” Elliott said, turning pink. “Forget I said anything.”

Harvey nodded. He was curious, but as a doctor, he was well aware when something wasn’t his business. He looked to the clock.

“Where’s the time gone?” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I’m sorry, Elliott, but I have to get to work. It was nice of you to come over. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Of course,” Elliott said. “And I hope we might have another time to have coffee again?”

Harvey smiled. “I’d like that.”

Elliott flashed a smile that could put the sun to shame, and Harvey felt that same sting of longing he’d felt at the bar the night before. “Very well. Have a good day, Harvey.”

Harvey took in a breath. “You too, Elliott.”

As Elliott left, Harvey watched the line of his shoulders. He wondered when the last time was that someone brought him coffee. When the last time someone had looked at him and really saw him. When he’d felt comfortable talking with someone about something other than work. He shook the thought from his head. 

He sighed.

He had work to do. 


	3. Chapter 3

They fell into a routine, one Harvey couldn’t say he minded. Elliott stopped by once or twice a week with coffee and they chatted as they sipped. It started with small talk mostly, in the beginning: how things were going with work, town gossip, the weather. Then it moved onto closer subjects. One day over coffee, while the outside pelted down rain, Harvey let it slip he’d once wanted to be a pilot and Elliott’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“A pilot you say? That’s wonderful!”

“Not so much,” Harvey chuckled, self-consciously. “Between my bad eyesight and my crippling fear of heights, I couldn’t cut it.”

Elliott sobered. “I suppose…”

“It’s okay,” Harvey said, trying to lighten the mood. “Not all dreams are meant to be followed. I’m happy with where I am.”

“Truly?” Elliott asked. “I can’t imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t followed my passions. Certainly not here with you now.”

Harvey sipped his coffee. “It’s a little different, though. It would be a better comparison if you were born with no fingers and a deep-seated fear of inkwells.”

Elliott laughed, abruptly, nearly spilling his coffee. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not judging, honestly, I just can’t imagine not doing what I love. I feel as though a piece of my heart would be missing.”

“I listen to air radio frequencies,” Harvey admitted. “And I build model airplanes. It’s not like I abandoned all my love for planes. I just know where my limits are.”

Elliott looked like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind last moment. He looked out the window, to the rain. Fall was slowly turning to winter, and the weather was biting. Soon, it would be snow falling instead of pelting rain. 

Silence fell between them, and Harvey wondered if he said something wrong. Elliott’s brow was creased with an emotion Harvey couldn’t place. He sipped at his coffee that was growing nearly too cold to be enjoyable and sighed. 

“I suppose knowing your limits is important,” Elliott finally said. “I just wonder if maybe that’s a skill I lack.”

“How do you figure?”

“Do you think I’m wasting my time writing this novel?” Elliott asked instead of answering.

Harvey frowned. “No. I don’t think that at all.”

“I feel like maybe I got in too deep too fast.” Elliott traced a finger around the brim of his cup. “Perhaps I should’ve looked before I leapt. Perhaps I’m a fool.”

“I don’t think so,” Harvey said, placing his cup down. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “In fact, I think you’re very brave for doing what you’re doing.”

Elliott looked skeptical. “You think?”

“I do.”

“Perhaps.” 

Silence fell between them again, this time a more reflected quiet. Harvey looked to the clock and sighed. 

Elliott slurped down the rest of his coffee. “That time, eh?”

“That time,” Harvey agreed. It was nine. Time to get to work. “Same time next week?”

“I’ll be here.”

The rest of the day passed slowly. There were no appointments, no emergencies that needed to be seen to, so Harvey sat back in his chair and dozed until three o’ clock rolled around and he closed down the clinic for the day. He considered tucking into his apartment, microwaving an early dinner and going to bed, but something pulled him outside, where his small black umbrella did very little to keep the rain from him. 

He knew it was silly, going out like this—he was liable to catch a cold—but there was something particularly sad about going home alone today. Maybe it was because he’d spent the morning with Elliott. He always seemed to make the early hours brighter, erase a bit of the loneliness Harvey was beginning to admit to. The trade off was that the rest of the day seemed sadder for his absence. 

Harvey didn’t want to think too deeply into why that was. 

He wandered through town, puddles sloshing under his feet. Most of the other townsfolk had huddled inside; he came across no one as he walked. Before he knew where he was going, he realized he was heading to the beach. He stopped, gripping his umbrella tighter. 

He shouldn’t bother Elliott. He was probably writing. 

He turned, going back towards his building. A glance at his watch said it was a half past three, and he figured the extra half an hour had done him good enough. It was better to go home. Pretend that he didn’t have a heaviness in his chest. Pretend that the life he lived was enough.

He shook the thought from his head. He didn’t have a bad life, he reminded himself. People depended on him. He was a good doctor. But there was still a rock in the pit of his stomach. The feeling of longing choked him, and he stopped mid-stride. 

What was it that he wanted?

He didn’t want to think about it. 

He switched the umbrella from one hand to the other, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. One thing at a time. He needed to get home. Picking back up his pace, he followed the trail up and around, until he got back to the clinic. He shut the door hard behind him.

Once he’d eaten and settled in, he spent the rest of the night working on his models. He could already feel the heavy static of insomnia clouding him over. Maybe he’d take tomorrow off. Sleep in. With a small shake of his head, he decided to do just that.

The night drew long. 

“I’m not saying it’s  _ ethical _ ,” Elliot said, placing his coffee to the side. “I’m saying it would be  _ effective _ .”

Harvey could barely contain his laughter. “I’m positive that it’s frowned upon to injure my patients. You know, ‘ _ do no harm. _ ’”

“I’m not saying maim him, I’m just saying that if you knock him out every time he gets into the mines, maybe he won’t do that anymore.”

“You’re probably not wrong,” Harvey said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “But I would definitely lose my practice that way.”

“Only if you get  _ caught, _ ” Elliott pointed out. 

Harvey shook his head. He glanced out the window to the rain. It hadn’t stopped for days, and he worried about flooding. Probably a far flung worry, but a worry nonetheless. He took another drink from his coffee before placing his cup beside Elliott’s.

“Regardless,” he said with a smile, “if I started knocking people out for not taking care of themselves, half the town would be unconscious.”

Elliott laughed, then looked sheepish. “I’m not on that list, am I?”

“When’s the last time you had a checkup?”

“Point taken.”

Harvey laughed again. He swirled his coffee in his cup and sighed. “Maybe if I were better at all of this, people would come in of their own accord.”

Elliott tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Harvey jumped, realizing he’d said that aloud. “Oh, nothing, forget I said anything.”

“No,” Elliott said. “Don’t backtrack. Do you think yourself incompetent?”

“No, it’s not that,” Harvey admitted. “I just…”

“Just?”

“Just feel like I’m weak. Like I can’t inspire others to follow my lead. I don’t know.” Harvey shrugged, looking out the window. 

Elliott leaned forward, catching his eye. “You’re not weak. Maybe a little anxious, but not weak.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Harvey said, “but you don’t have to make me feel better. I know I’m good at what I do. I just wish I had a bit more confidence.”

Elliott watched him a moment and Harvey felt his face heat under the scrutiny. Finally, Elliott sighed. “I think perhaps you need to find a way to relax more. The confidence will come when you’re not so stressed.”

Harvey shrugged again. “I’m a doctor. It’s all stress, all the time.”

“Well, will it help if I schedule that check up?” Elliott asked. “I can make some time to come in.”

“That would help,” Harvey lied. It wouldn’t help with his anxiety, but it would make him feel better that Elliott was looked after. “We can check my books after we finish up here.”

“Sounds good,” Elliot said. “And Harvey?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t put yourself down like that.” Elliott smiled, crooked. “I don’t like when people say harsh things of my friends.”

Something fluttered in Harvey’s chest. He looked to his feet. 

“Okay.”

Friends. It was a good word, a good feeling. It brought a wave of hope to Harvey’s chest. 

Outside, the sun peaked from the clouds.


End file.
